The Protector
by Cream Filled Ecstasy
Summary: Written before the seventh book, and having my take on how the last book should have gone. SSHP slash.
1. Chapter 1

Harry had never understood just how much danger he was about to face. Sure, he knew of the Unforgivable Curses and the horrid deaths they could easily cause, but he never realized just how dangerous going to war in the Wizarding World could be. There are many ways for a Wizard to kill a person— many more curses and poisons that can be conjured and severely more deaths that can be caused with just a touch of magic.

In muggle Primary School Harry had learnt of the muggle wars such as the Great War and the Second World War, and so he knew of the desolation, the trench wars and the arms race, and the violence that exceeded anything he had ever learnt about at Hogwarts. However, he never thought that Wizard's would fight in this violent fashion as well. It had seemed to be something that any Wizard, Muggleborn or Pure Blood, would never stoop to doing. But war can make civil people do very inhuman things.

Harry watched in devastation as daggers were thrown into Snape's arms and legs by a magical force. There was little blood, for Snape did not bother to remove any of the weapons from his body as he ran with all his might toward a small trench Harry had made earlier during the battle.

Hermione had been hit with a foreign spell that rendered her legs immobile, and she needed time in order to reverse the spell, so Harry did the best thing he could think up. He carried her back from the front line and spelled a ditch into the ground, giving her safety from the battle and time to work and heal. After a short interlude, Hermione had removed the spell, but others were becoming wounded and in need of momentary shelter. Soon, the ditch had become a trench and those that were wounded traveled there for time, shelter, and a chance to Apparate to the large trench about a half-mile away, where Madam Pomfrey and her helpers were stationed. It was just as though they were fighting in the Great War instead of this war against the Dark Lord.

Harry was shocked out of his intent staring at his wounded Professor as a _Stupefy_ hit Harry squarely in the chest. He fell to the ground from the force of the spell, but was not affected by it in any other way, for Snape and Harry and concocted a spell to protect their major organs from any and all spells cast with at least three feet between the caster and the target. It covered the whole torso, including the neck and head, from all sides. Their limbs were not protected at all because the stretching of the spell over the entire body would cause the spell to be easily broken, and the spell was hard enough to cast as it is.

Harry did not bother standing as he cast three _Stupefy_ in quick succession, knocking the Death Eater down and most likely rendering him unconscious. As Harry stood he cast four more _Stupefy_ at Snape's attacker, Bellatrix, and managed to catch a glimpse of Snape as the wounded man slid into the trench and out of sight.

The battle field was still active, and Harry knew others would be sent after him if he stood out in the open. So he told Hermione to watch his back as he made for the trench, seeing as Ron— who was standing just a few feet away— was currently engrossed in duel, which was quickly turning into a fistfight, against Rabastan Lestrange. Harry's trek to the trench was uneventful thanks to Hermione, and he slithered down to sit across from the now blood-covered Snape.

"Need help?" Harry asked in a deathly quiet whisper, staring at the point where his and Snape's feet touched because of the trench's small size. Snape grunted in response, shifting his wounded legs so that they were in between Harry's bent legs. Snape's feet pressed somewhat against Harry's crotch and inner thigh, but Harry ignored his growing feelings and focused intently on removing the daggers from Snape's legs and healing the puncture wounds they left behind.

As he steadily worked on in silence a memory, in which Harry meet Snape in one of the more run-down alleys near Diagon Alley, emerged into Harry's conscious thoughts. Harry had been searching for ways to create new spells and potions when Snape appeared out of nowhere. He had looked intently at Harry, not smirking or scowling at him but simply staring straight-faced at his enemy, before he turned with a flourish of his big black cloak and started to run down the path. Harry had jerked into action, running after Snape in a determined rush, only to come to a screeching halt as Snape stood at a dead-end with his back to the brick wall and his wand hand outstretched.

"I am on your side," Snape said to Harry, lifting up with his left hand a small Pensieve and, before Harry could react, thrusting Harry face first into the bowl filled with Snape's memories. Inside the Pensieve Harry had seen all he needed to see to know Snape spoke the truth, as well as enough torturous memories of Snape's to last several lifetimes. Harry had seen Snape talking with Dumbledore as he discovered that he must kill the old man— his mentor— and Harry had watched as Snape vowed with Dumbledore to kill him when the time comes, and then vowed with Narcissa to protect her son and do Draco's deed if he could not. Harry had looked on, despite his wrenching gut, and watched as Snape killed Dumbledore, as Snape mourned Dumbledore, as Snape tortured himself with starvation and self-induced bruising over Dumbledore's death. Then Harry watched as Snape regained sanity, as Snape remembered the second part of his vow with Dumbledore, the portion of the vow that consisted solely of the order; "Protect Harry."

After his trip in the Pensieve, Harry and Snape joined forces occasionally— when Snape's role as Death Eater under Voldemort permitted— and created spells and potions to use during the war. They created many useful things, but the greatest spell they made was _Protector_, a conveniently named though hard to perform spell that protected whomever the caster chose to protect. It is most effective if performed by one person to protect another, for the magic is weaker when the caster's intent is to save their own skin.

Snape worked as a double agent until the previous battle, in which Harry was surrounded by five Death Eater's, and the only person who could get through and save him without dying in the process was Snape. In all truth, Harry was very glad Snape was on his side.

Harry grunted softly as one of the daggers stayed stubbornly lodged within Snape's calf. Harry had thought better of pulling the dagger out by hand, for the blade seemed to be very close, if not touching, the bone in Snape's leg. However, magic proved difficult for the very same reason. Each time Harry started to remove the dagger, it slid against something, causing Snape's leg to twitch involuntarily and the spell to break.

"Go on and yank it out," Snape said, and Harry brought his face up to peer at Snape. He looked like Professor Snape stirring a potion, for he starred with such an intent focus at his arm; a focus that Harry could only recall having seen on Snape's face when he worked with potions.

"Professor," Harry whispered to himself, but Snape heard the minute sound all the same.

"Beg pardon?" Snape asked in his deep, thick voice that always gave Harry chills. Harry coughed into his forearm and said nothing as he wrenched the dagger from Snape's leg. Blood gushed forth, pouring over Snape's leg and pooling on the ground around them, and both Wizard's starred in shock for a split second.

"Fuck," Harry said with his eyes wide open and staring at the blood as he healed Snape's leg in a rush. Harry managed to replace some of the blood into Snape's body, but unfortunately it was not enough. Snape was panting heavily with his arms at his sides, his face a ghostly pale tinged with green. Harry gasped and slipped across the muddied ground to Snape's side, propping Snape's limp body up while he cast a spell to be rid of the bloody mess before gently laying Snape down across his lap.

Harry pet Snape's head soothingly as he cast a strong healing spell, which forced the daggers out as well as healing the wounds the left. Soon Snape stopped panting as his health was regained. With shaky arms Snape lifted himself up, shifting so that he sat in his original spot against the trench's dirt wall.

"You should have done that earlier," Snape said with dark humor, a smirk gracing his now considerably less pale face. Harry laughed softly, turning to stare again at the point in which his and Snape's feet touched, though now they were side-by-side.

"I didn't know I could do that," Harry confessed to their feet, "until now, of course." Harry felt, rather than saw, Snape nod his head, his shoulder shifting slightly against Harry's. Continuing to stare at their feet, Harry felt Snape move again, shifting his whole body so that he could look at Harry's face clearly and without straining his neck.

"It's hard to see you down there," Snape said calmly, and Harry peered sideways at him, finding no hint of humor visible in Snape's face save for a slight glimmer in his eye. The glimmer reminded Harry of Dumbledore and his twinkle. Harry always felt like crying when he thought of Dumbledore, but this time was strangely different. This time Harry felt happy to remember Dumbledore; to remember one of his good qualities, and to have found this quality in Snape.

"I'm good at disappearing," replied Harry as he smiled, mirroring Snape's previous shift in position so that they were once again sitting across from each other.

"So I've seen," Snape said, the glimmer in his eyes seeping into his voice, causing it to lilt with good humor, "Countless times, in fact." Harry's smile broadened, his cheeks turning pink, as he finally looked Snape in the eye. They gazed at one another for a time, the thought of the battle lost from their minds.

Luna Lovegood appearing in the trench with a thud, her left arm slightly mangled and bleeding, was what finally drew the two Wizard's back into reality.

"Luna!" said Harry as he rushed to begin healing her wounded arm. It was an easy mend, thankfully, and the three of them were back on the battle field in less than a minute. Luna exited first with a helpful boost from Harry, who scrambled out after her in order to help Snape up. Luna stood guard on Harry's backside as he gave Snape his hand for leverage, and after a short moment was taken to check the Protector spells present on all three of them, they stormed the battle front once more.


	2. Chapter 2

As the battle waged on, Harry fought with his friends alongside him, protecting him better than any spell could, though one friend stood out to Harry more than the rest. Ron and Hermione fought on either side of Harry, taking out foes of their own, as Neville and Luna watched their backs. Remus and Tonks defended Harry, blocking spells from all sides, but they were all in the background in Harry's mind. It was Snape who stood out in the foreground.

It was Snape that protected Harry from a stunning spell with a quickly cast _Enervate_, and it was Snape who blocked countless more spells and curses from hitting their target as Harry stood still in shock after killing a Death Eater, the man's blood covering half of Harry's face, hair, and torso.

Snape was also the driving force that moved Harry forward, even as he witnessed Bellatrix knock Neville unconscious with her new tactic of casting first _Stupefy_, then _Crucio_ on her target.

And Snape was there at the very end, when Harry finally faced Voldemort. Ron and Hermione stood next to Harry, all their wands at the ready, while Snape guarded their backs from any Death Eater's scheming to pull a sneak attack on the trio.

Harry glared at Voldemort as he walked back and froth in front of them, giving his villainously prophetic monologue on Harry's defeat. As Voldemort turned to face the other direction and continue pacing, Ron tapped Harry upon the shoulder, catching Harry's eye and mouthing, "Avada Kedavra". Harry tapped Hermione's shoulder at a similar turn, and Voldemort turned three more times before Harry, Ron, and Hermione shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" in unison.

The blow from the three Killing Curses delivered Voldemort incapacitated, though it did not kill him, and Harry's scar seared with pain. He clasped his hands to it, and the pain dulled and finally disappeared after a few moments time. This was when Hermione spoke of her discovery of how to finally kill Lord Voldemort.

"We get the Protector spell as strong as we can," Hermione briskly said to Ron and Harry, "and then we cast _Avada Kedavra_ at your scar." Harry had a part of his mind that doubted Hermione, so he thought to consult Snape. He and Hermione moved to help Snape get rid of the one Death Eater still struggling to attack Harry, as Ron watched the still seemingly unconscious Dark Lord.

After a short debriefing, Snape approved Hermione's plan, though he called it, "Slightly mad and not by the book in any way."

It was decided for— not Snape— but Ron to cast _Avada Kedavra_ on Harry, seeing as Snape was able to put the Protector spell at its strongest. Harry thought he would be more frightened facing _Avada Kedavra_ from Ron than from Voldemort, seeing as Ron's aim had a tendency to deteriorate in times of crisis, but Harry felt calm. With the soothing presence of Snape's hands on Harry's shoulders and the Protector spell encompassing Harry's torso, Harry looked fearlessly ahead as the risking plan was put into motion.

The green bolt of light was prominent in Harry's vision before it hit his forehead, and the pain from Ron's Avada Kedavra devouring Harry's scar was dulled because of it, but as the curse burned a new scar into his forehead Harry could not do anything to stop himself from emitting a bloodcurdling cry. Harry fell to his knees and clawed at his forehead as tears streamed down his face. Hermione kneeled beside Harry, trying to soothe him by rubbing his back and telling him he would be all right, and Ron apologized again and again, crying so hard that he could hardly breathe.

Snape stood behind Harry, staring down at the boy as he cried, watching with a pained look on his face as he shed a single tear. Harry felt the tear hit the back of his head, and the realization that Snape was crying for him and his pain alone stopped Harry's clawing hands. Harry lifted his head, looking first at Hermione, then at Ron, and finally turning to look at Snape. Snape straightened up and swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, and Harry did the same.

"I believe," Snape said, pausing to breathe in deeply in an attempt to remove the congested sound from his voice, "that you must cast the Killing Curse once more. The Prophecy calls for one of you to kill the other, and as far as I can tell, the Dark Lord is till alive, though unconscious." Harry nodded slowly, his mouth agape at hearing such human emotion coming from Snape, and attempted to stand on his shaky legs. Snape caught Harry under the arm before he had the chance to fall, and planted him firmly on his feet.

After emitting a long sigh, Harry straightened his shoulder's and back, pointed his wand at Voldemort's comatose form, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" with more force and vigor than he had ever imagined he could have.

Harry Potter made a triumphant return to the base of the Order of the Phoenix— located a half mile from the battle field and adjacent to the Hospital tent, which had proven itself to be convenient several times over— and Harry's safe journey was all because of one Severus Snape hauling Harry across the half mile, considering that apparating two people was hardly possible at Snape's weakened state.

Ron and Hermione were those to thank for dragging Voldemort's corpse down to the base for a proper incinerating, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix looked on with joy as the celebration of the defeat of Voldemort began.

The Ministry of Magic's important figures soon appeared on the scene with port keys back to the Ministry, but the Headmistress of Hogwarts Professor McGonagall sent them away and requested port keys to someplace useful, namely Hogwarts. In a few moments time, the Ministry of Magic returned with the proper port keys, and Harry finally had a chance to relax as Snape laid him down upon an infirmary bed inside the Hospital Wing.

The next two weeks were utter chaos as the press snapped pictures of everyone and interviewed them all at least twice, Harry having been interviewed five times and Snape four, seeing as he was the double agent for the side of good. When things finally died down, it was summer time. Hogwarts was emptied of the press, and only the Order members were left on the campus.

It was then that Harry finally began to talk to Snape about that fateful final battle.


	3. Chapter 3

While the press had been present at Hogwarts during the first week after the battle, they had hardly gotten any news— besides the basic overview of the final battle— out of the Order and its members. Harry had been put in the hospital wing, but he had hardly needed any tending to. He was in an infirmary bed for the better part of that first post-war day, which was nothing compared to the care Neville and Hermione needed, not to mention Snape.

Not to long of a time before the final face-off against Voldemort, Hermione had gone up against Lucius Malfoy in a duel. The cunning bastard had decided to distract Hermione by attacking Tonks— who was also in battle and had just lost her wand to her opponent— with several _Crucios_, which Hermione dutifully blocked with her _Protector_ enhanced torso, before he attacked Ron with an _Avada Kedavra_. Hermione, bypassing her knowledge of Ron also having the Protector spell encasing his body and reacting with the reflex of defending the love of her life, jumped in front of the Killing Curse's path. The blast didn't hurt Hermione, though it did break her Protector spell, leaving her extremely vulnerable. Lucius took advantage of this as well, sending a menacing burst of flames at Hermione's undefended self. Hermione shielded her face with her forearms, causing the flames to leave severe burns upon her skin. But Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, and that reason was brought to everyone's attention as Hermione ignored her burns, took out Lucius Malfoy with an Expelliarmous and Locomotor Mortis, respectivley, and kept on fighting alongside her friends until the very end.

She was bedridden inside the Hospital Wing for a whole week, most of which she spent either sleeping or cuddlying silently with Ron, who had only suffered a few cuts along with one heck of a bruise that covered most of his left thigh.

Neville was incompacitated by Bellatrix's devilish attack involving the Cruciatus Curse, and was asleep for most of the two weeks of attempted press coverage.

Snape was also bedridden for the first week back from the battle field, though he was rarely asleep at anytime, even during the night. His dagger wounds had been healed considerably, though many of them had not been healed completely. A few of these wounds had caught infection from all the muck and dirt of the trench, which made Madam Pomfrey force Snape to stay almost completely bedridden.

Seeing as all the others in the infirmary had either been healed and had vacated rather promptly afterwards or were asleep in theirs beds, Harry decided to sit with Snape and keep him company while he went through the grueling process of healing infections and intense boredom. Harry didn't want to face the press so soon after battle, and had tried his hardest to avoid it as long as possible. So, he and Snape played mindless games— or so Harry had assumed— of cards and chess, and talked very little about very little. Snape turned the fun and mindless card games into horribly hard tests of Harry's intelligence, and Snape was just as good, if not better, then Ron at the strategy game of chess.

Once Hermione was deemed well again and given permission to leave the Hospital Wing, with Ron at her side since he had no need to stay in the infirmary any longer, Harry decided he should put on his heroic smile and face the press. Well, it was more Snape that decided Harry should do as he did. As the end of Snape's stay in the Hospital Wing neared, he began to speak to Harry about more than simply chess and cards. Snape voiced his opinion on various things, namely Harry's masculinity and Gryffindor courage having presumably met an untimely demise during the war, seeing as Harry couldn't bear to face something as trivial as the Daily Prophet reporters. For good measure, Snape gave examples of Harry's cowardice, such as staying in the infirmary even though he was fully healed, and being so desperate to avoid the press that he would stoop so low as to spend his time with his most despised Potions professor.

So as one can plainly see, Snape was the driving power for Harry to vacate the Hospital Wing, and Snape was also the driving power that pushed Harry to confront him about what had happened on the battle field. Of course, the press always interrupted Harry's attempts at conversation with Snape by calling one of them away for an interview or to answer 'just a few questions', which usually meant they expected an interview, even though it wasn't planned. Snape, however, had gotten exceptionally good at planning and persuading, and quite easily convinced Professor McGonagall to hurry the press out of Hogwarts, which she did in a rather timely fashion. This gave Harry the courage to ask Snape up to the Gryffindor Tower for tea and a chat, but that plan fell through because McGonagall and Hermione insisted that Harry, and Ron, leave the Tower, seeing as they were now graduates of Hogwarts. So, Harry invited Snape for tea and a chat in his new rooms, which were located on the fifth floor, and had quite a spacious interior.

Harry's new rooms contained a parlor room with a deep mouthed fireplace that Harry could already imagine having a huge fire roaring inside it during the winter season; a breakfast nook across from the parlor that had enough cabinet and pantry room to be called a kitchenette, though Harry thought the round three-person table suited the room much better than a larger table would; a roomy bedroom with a double four-poster bed and a large armoire, though there was no closet, as well as a study area that had a desk surrounded by ceiling-high book shelving along the walls. There was a bathroom, of course, and though it was not attached to the bedroom, it was exquisitely furnished with marble tile and a claw-footed bathtub.

Harry had thought he was being treated far to nicely, until he saw the rooms Hermione and Ron had gotten. Their rooms had a separate study and a guest bedroom and two bathrooms, one of which was attached to the master bedroom. This made Harry feel slightly better about his own housing, though he finally understood why he had gotten such nice rooms when Hermione told him she had chosen them. Apparently, Hermione was going to become a professor at Hogwarts, and therefore had the right to give Harry and Ron and herself nice rooms.

The invite for tea was scheduled for Tuesday afternoon at 2 o'clock, and the invitation had been made to Snape on Monday. Originally, Harry had planned for Snape to come over on Sunday, because Sundays seem to be expressively nice days to have tea, but Harry was in the process of moving on Sunday, and therefore could not. Harry was still working on moving come Monday, but he managed to cross paths with Snape on the way to dinner and ask him to tea then. This gave Harry plenty of time Tuesday morning to fuss and panic over cleanliness and timing and what they were to do besides have tea and chat, which seemed rather stupid now that Harry thought about it, though most of his time was spent sitting on the parlor couch and fidgeting nervously.

Snape finally arrived five minutes before 2 o'clock, and Harry was so relieved to see him arrive that he almost blurted, "Where have you been?" but caught himself just in the nick of time.

"What kind of tea would you like?" Harry asked, pondering if he should've worn something a little less casual, seeing as Snape was wearing his black trousers and straight-cut black jacket with his thick black robe on top. Snape only wore that robe at night time, which must mean that Harry's day clothes were not appropriate, or at least that was what Harry thought.

"I don't suppose you have much of a selection?" Snape responded, seating himself down at the small round table and looking even more impeccable than usual. Harry swallowed thickly against the lump growing in his throat and rushed to the pantry, where he had stored a wooden box filled with five varieties of tea.

"Of course I have a selection," Harry said as he carried the box to the table, setting it down in front of Snape and removing the lid, which he managed to find room for on the table as well. "See?" Harry continued, pointing out each tea as he described them, "I've got Earl Grey, an Irish breakfast tea, some Chai tea that Hermione gave to me for head colds and headaches and things. I've got two: Green Tea Chai and Vanilla Chai. This one is American, so I don't know quite what to call it. They just call it Raspberry or Strawberry, but it has both flavors." Harry stopped, realizing that he was blathering on about tea, which was highly uninteresting.

Snape hummed softly, tapping his finger against the table as his eyes scanned the tea bags. "None of these would be my first choice," he said bluntly, picking up the Earl Grey and placing it on the table. "However," Snape said, reaching for a Chai tea, "I can't decide between these two." The Vanilla Chai was removed and placed next to the Earl Grey on the table, and Harry was surprised at Snape's decision.

"I never thought that you would like something spicy like Chai tea," Harry said, almost despite himself, "I thought you would like something plain or… maybe something that…"

"Isn't as redundant as 'Chai tea'?" Snape asked with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Chai means tea, Potter," Snape said, placing the Earl Grey back in the box, "It literally means 'tea' in Hindi." Harry pondered over this for a moment as removed another bag of Vanilla Chai and walked the box of tea back to the pantry.

"Why not call it 'Indian Tea'?" Harry asked conversationally as he set up the tea tray, placing the tea bags in their tea cups, and walked to toward the parlor room. "Come in to the parlor. It's much more comfortable," Harry told Snape, who respectively followed Harry into the room. Snape waited until Harry had set the tea tray down and gone and returned from fetching the kettle before he sat down in one of two oak chairs on either side of the room. He sat with a flourish, somehow making sitting an art form of sorts by whipping his robe about without seeming violent and crossing his legs in such a way that it seemed more masculine than effeminate. Harry had always thought men who crossed their legs looked girlish, but Snape did not. In fact he looked rather stunning, for Snape, as he sat in the high-backed chair with his black robe pooled on the floor and draped over the arms of the chair, his shoes catching the light and shining every now and then as the two wall sconces flickered in the windowless side of the room.

Harry swallowed again, his mouth and throat suddenly dry, and quickly pored them both tea. He handed Snape his tea cup and saucer before he sat in the middle of the couch, trying to keep comfortable without alienating Snape in some way. It was difficult, seeing as Snape showed so little emotion, but Harry supposed Snape would actually complain if he didn't like something, rather than hiding his opinions to try and make Harry happy.

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping on their tea and adding milk and sugar to their liking, before they began to speak.

Snape started the conversation up, going almost immediately to the subject of the war. "How are you coping with it all?" he asked Harry, "Do you still feel distressed?"

"How did you know I felt distressed?" Harry countered, slightly shocked because if Snape did know, why hadn't he comforted Harry? Why hadn't Snape talked about it before hand?

"I over heard you telling Madam Pomfrey about your feelings that first day in the Hospital Wing, and you did look distressed all that day, but," Snape paused, taking a sip of his tea, "you seemed better the next day, so I wasn't sure if you were still distressed or not."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling awkward at Snape knowing how he felt. "Well, I don't feel so bad, since not too many people died. I had time to mourn and over come Dumbledore's death, and since then people have only gotten injured, since the Order played it so safe," said Harry, "And when the battles got rough, we had already discovered the Protector spell, so… I guess we were just lucky." Harry stopped talking and starred at his tea cup, the realization of just how lucky they were finally sinking in.

"We were very lucky," Snape agreed, setting his cup and saucer down on the table and leaning in closer to Harry. "Are you sure you aren't still troubled?" Snape said, resting his hand lightly upon the arm of the sofa, "Because you really should not be. You should be glad we survived this war with so little casualties. Even the Death Eater's had only a few die." It sounded as though Snape laughed at that, a snort that sounded like it had good humor behind it, and Harry smiled. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and wiped it away, feeling silly at crying over almost no deaths during this war.

"They'll get the death sentence though," Harry said, mostly to himself.

"Is that a bad thing?" Snape answered, moving his hand from the sofa's arm to Harry's arm. Harry shook his head 'no' in reply, smiling even though tears were still falling from his eyes.

"Don't worry Harry," Snape said, his voice almost down to a whisper, "Might I call you Harry?"

"Yes," Harry answered simply, "And may I call you Severus?"

"Don't push your luck, Potter," Snape replied almost jokingly, though things sounded more serious coming from Snape, and this was no exception.

"In due time you may call me by my first name," Snape elaborated, removing his hand from Harry's arm slowly, "but until then, I will tolerate you referring to me as 'Snape' rather than 'Professor Snape'." The tears began to stop, and Harry's smile was still prominent on his face, showing that somehow Snape had given Harry a much needed talking to, without berating Harry in the least.

"It's hard to believe you're letting me call you Snape," Harry said smartly, "It's also hard to believe that I invited you over for tea."

"What is the hardest to believe," Snape said as he leaned back in his chair, "Is that your rooms are much nicer than mine."

"Really?" Harry laughed, "I doubt that. You probably chose the rooms to be not so nice."

Snape smirked, picking up his cup and taking a sip before placing it down on its saucer again. "I did not decide on having barely decent rooms, I assure you," said Snape as his smirk began to look more like a smile.

"Then you can't be telling the truth about your rooms," Harry said in disbelief, "I can't imagine you having rooms as grimy as your potions lab was. I can tell by how neat and orderly your desk is, even though it has papers piled all over it."

"Would you like to come and see for yourself?" Snape asked nonchalantly, reaching for his cup and saucer once more.

"Yes," Harry replied, "Yes; I should think I would."

"What do you say to tea this Friday?" Snape said; raising an eyebrow at Harry as his smirk seemed to turn into a complete smile.

"Sure," Harry smiled back at Snape, "I wouldn't mind talking to you again."

"Good, because I don't feel like we should do much more talking tonight," Snape said, giving Harry a chance to raise both his eyebrows in surprise, "I am in need of a good game of chess."

"You want your ego stroked," Harry said, laughing loudly as he placed his cup down and went to fetch his chess game.

"Obviously," was Snape's reply as he, too, set down his cup, "Shall we play at the table?"

Harry called, "Yes," over his shoulder, and came back to see Snape sitting at the table with his tea in his hand. They played three games of chess, one of which Harry came daringly close to winning. He had gotten all but six of Snape's pieces, and Snape only had a few of Harry's, but Snape won anyway, as per usual. As dinner time rolled around, they packed up the chess board and Harry set the tea tray aside, and he and Snape walked down to the Great Hall together, chatting on the game of chess along with anything else that struck them funny along the way.

Harry had classified his feelings for Snape, and though they weren't anywhere near the level of closeness Harry desperately wanted to have with Snape, Harry was finally happy. He had something to look forward to again, something to hope for that wasn't the defeat of Voldemort or the safety of his friends, and he was very glad for that.

After dinner, Snape walked Harry back up to his rooms and they played a game of cards at the table before heading off to bed.

"Remember; tea on Friday," Snape said as he exited Harry's room.

"What time?" Harry asked, not knowing if it would be 2 o'clock again, or tea after dinner.

"I should think 7 o' clock would be appropriate," said Snape, smirking slightly and raising his hand in a signal of good-bye, before he turned around and began down the several flights of stairs.

"Good-bye, Snape," Harry called out, "I'll see you Friday."


	4. Chapter 4

"We're going to have tea again," Harry said to the walls of his parlor as he sat down in the chair that Snape had looked so stunning in. He ran his hands over the arms of the chair, wishing that he could still feel the heat that Snape's body most likely left.

It felt odd to Harry, for him to like Snape. Not just because Snape was, well— Snape— and therefore not an ideal for any sort of relationship. Only a few months before, Harry had hated Snape with a passion, because Snape had killed Dumbledore! And then he was working together with this man, and then fighting side-by-side with him, and now they were becoming friends and Harry was growing feelings beyond friendship— it seemed almost too much for Harry. Too much for Harry to take in, let alone accept. But somehow, Harry was acknowledging these changes with ease. It made Harry wonder if the war had changed him far more than he had first thought.

Harry glanced down at his hands, which were still grasping the arms of the chair, and thought of Ginny. They had separated for Ginny's sake, to keep Ginny safe from harm, but they had also become estranged so that Harry would not become distracted by her.

Ginny hadn't taken well to the alienation, but Harry had hardly noticed her absence, because soon after their relationship ended, Snape had appeared in Harry's life once again. The scene in the alleyway, the trip through Snape's horrid memories, had occurred just weeks after Ginny was gone from Harry's so-called social life.

Snape wasn't a distraction for Harry, unlike how Ginny had been. Harry could keep a level head with Snape around in battle, because Harry knew without any doubt that Snape could take care of himself, and still look out for Harry. Ginny could take care of herself— truth be told— but that was all she could do. Ginny never came to Harry's rescue, Harry always came to rescue her.

It was as though Harry had been Ginny's 'knight in shining armor', but had given that up, so that Snape could be his own black knight.

"I've had enough of playing the hero," Harry said softly, lifting himself up from the chair he now thought of as belonging to Snape: 'Snape's chair'. "That is why Ginny and I broke up," Harry said, lifting his head higher and standing up straighter, as though he felt proud, "and that is why Snape and I get along, because I…" Harry stopped, swallowing heavily against the lump in his throat that materialized whenever Harry's feelings for Snape came into play.

"Well, I," Harry began again, walking over to the table in the breakfast nook and leaning on it; placing both his hands down flat on the table top and staring down at the table. A drop of sweat trickled down Harry's forehead, over the un-cursed scar left by Ron, before it fell lightly onto the table top. Harry blinked before whispering, "I think I'm in love with Snape."

"I beg your pardon?" said Hermione from the doorway to Harry's rooms, giving Harry a start. "What did you say about love?" she asked Harry, stepping into the room and over to the table slowly, with Ron following closely behind her.

"Hermione," Ron said, trying to help his best friend out, "Harry'll tell us what's bothering him when something is actually bothering him."

"Oh, Ronald," Hermione said in a very accurate impersonation of Molly Weasley. Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't meaning to impersonate Molly Weasley, which left both Ron and Harry in a bit of a jam.

"It's obvious Harry has something to say," said Hermione authoritatively, "Isn't that right, Harry?" Another drop of sweat rolled down Harry's forehead, and he gulped nervously several times before he managed to say,

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Hermione."

Hermione sighed and sat Harry down at the table, motioning for Ron to sit down as well, before she began the painful process of finding and analyzing Harry's problems. Harry decided it would be best to just tell the truth, though he left out the part about loving Snape, and improvised by saying he liked being Snape's friend and had been saying that he didn't love Ginny when Hermione and Ron had appeared on the scene.

"Ah," was Hermione's first response, as she thought about all Harry had said, "Well, it seems to me that you might have solved your own problem." Ron's jaw dropped at that, as he was flabbergasted, and Harry was in a similar state of disbelief.

"You don't like Ginny anymore," Hermione explained, exasperated, "because you really like Snape."

"Now wait a minute," Ron said in his usual confused and disbelieving voice, "Harry said he doesn't like Ginny anymore," Ron tried not to give Harry an evil look, knowing that his sister was perfectly fine with Harry's feelings now, and had gotten over her own after a few months. "But Harry," Ron continued, "Harry didn't say anything about liking Snape. He's just friends with him." Ron made a face at that, saying, "I don't get you, mate, but as long as you don't force me to be friends with that greasy git…"

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, smacking the back of Ron's head, "Don't be so rude. I know you are capable of behaving, so behave." Harry laughed at his friends' odd display of love as Ron began mumbling under his breath, scowling and sitting with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Harry," Hermione said, compassion appearing in her voice, "You do like Snape, as more than a friend, don't you?" Harry sighed and nodded, not sure if he hated or loved Hermione's ability to read him like a book. Hermione smiled and reached out her hand to cover Harry's, patting it gently in a sympathetic gesture.

"I'm sure everything will work out fine," Hermione said kindly, "Snape is not nearly as bad as he looks, _Ronald_," Hermione gave Ron a pointed look, "and he will surely give you the appreciation you deserve."

"Thanks Hermione," Harry said softly, a small smile on his face, "I actually don't think you are too far off about Snape."

Hermione's smile broadened, showing her straight teeth— which were noticeable now that her buck teeth were gone— and said, "I'm always right, Harry. You should now that by now." She giggled, and Harry started to laugh as well. Ron still sat grumpily in his seat, which only made Harry laugh more, and soon he couldn't believe he was worried over anything. Harry remembered what Snape had said earlier that day, and took his words to heart. They were lucky, and Harry had nothing to worry about; nothing at all.

With a yawn and a stretch, Harry awoke on Wednesday morning feeling refreshed. He was looking forward to seeing Snape at breakfast, even if he didn't get a chance to talk to him. Harry had heard rumors about Snape taking up the position of Potions Master once more, and so Harry didn't expect him to have much free time.

Harry got out of bed and changed from his striped pajamas to blue jeans and a plain white top, and made a quick trip to the bathroom, after which he decided to don a light jumper because the morning air was still chilly and the sky was a dull gray. It looked to be a cold day, was what Harry thought as he pulled on a pair of tube socks and his ratty old shoes; the ones that had their heels almost falling off, they were so battered.

It took almost five minutes for Harry to travel down the five flights of stairs, and when he finally reached the end he could scarcely believe what he saw.

Snape was talking to Charlie Weasley, and they looked— Harry would have sworn without a shadow of a doubt— like they were flirting. Harry couldn't believe it. He had been so sure that Snape liked him, and there he was, flirting with Charlie, of all people!

"I didn't really have proof that Snape liked me," Harry thought sadly, attempting to hide behind the staircase while still being able to see the horrible transaction between Snape and Charlie. Then, Charlie left Snape with a small wave good-bye, and Harry began to sigh with relief. But before Harry could relax, Luna Lovegood appeared on the scene.

Luna started talking to Snape, giggling and smiling like a love-struck teenager. Hell, she was a love-struck teenager! Harry felt his heart sink as he realized that he didn't even have proof that Snape liked people of the same gender. He could like the opposite gender, like an average person! Harry almost laughed at the thought of Snape being average, and finally got a chance to sigh with relief as Luna departed.

With a strong will, Harry remembered what Snape had told him the other day, and tried to will his worries away. They were silly worries, after all. Harry didn't see Charlie or Luna having tea with Snape, now, did he? Did he? Harry had never thought of paying attention to either of their schedules, but he hardly had time to think about that. Snape had seen Harry behind the staircase, and was fast approaching him.

Harry's heart raced; and, try as he might, he couldn't quite remember how to breathe.

"Good morning, Harry," said Snape in his usual, stern tone of voice; though Harry liked to think it sounded a bit brighter, "How are you this wretchedly frigid morning?"

"Hello, Professor," Harry said reflexively, "Oh, I mean; Snape. Sorry." Harry smiled meekly, hoping that his heaving chest wasn't as visible as it seemed. "I'm fine; how are you?"

"The same, I suppose," was Snape's polite answer, "Though the company thus far hasn't been very appealing. Needles to say, I'm looking forward to this Friday." Snape smirked deviously, making Harry flush and feel more timid than he was comfortable with.

"Oh," Harry mumbled timorously, "You don't like talking to Charlie?" Harry mentally berated himself, realizing that telling Snape he had been watching him was not a smart move.

"No; I can't say that I do," Snape replied, motioning for Harry to follow him, "Nor do I care overly much for the conversation Miss Lovegood provides." Snape snorted, what Harry saw as Snape's way of laughing, and asked, "Care to join me on my way to the Great Hall?"

After the walk to the Great Hall, Harry did not get the chance to speak to Snape again. And Harry did not see him after breakfast, either. Harry did not go to lunch, but stayed up in his rooms to work on making a new spell. It was a good distraction from Snape, even though whenever he saw something in his notebook that was scrawled down by Snape— notes on the spells they had created together— Harry's heart fluttered.

At dinner, Harry finally saw Snape again, but could not work up the courage to start up a conversation. Instead, he walked back to his rooms, took a hot shower, and thought of Snape.

Harry thought of Snape's hands, Snape's dexterous hands and how they had felt against his skin when Snape touched him. In the confines of his rooms, in his shower, with the bathroom door securely locked, Harry was tempted to touch himself. He felt his penis grow harder as he thought of Snape's hands running down his body, over his chest and stomach until they reached his cock.

Harry gasped and grabbed his cock in his right hand, squeezing it roughly as an image of Snape wrapping his hand around Harry's cock became stunningly clear in Harry's mind. The jerking rhythm of masturbation took over Harry, and he couldn't help but moan as he came against the tiled shower walls.

The cool tile felt wonderful against Harry's feverish forehead, and slowly Harry released his spent penis, standing under the steamy water for a moment before cleaning away the mess he'd made.

Harry left the bathroom feeling calm and oddly happy, and he crawled into bed thinking about what would happen Friday. He smiled as he snuggled against his pillow, imagining it was Snape's thin chest. With a peacefully happy sigh, Harry drifted off to sleep, waiting for the next day he got to spend with Snape.

Thursday seemed to slip away, as Harry spent the entire day with Ron and Hermione out by the lake shore. It was still cold that day, but the sky was a little less gray and foggy, which had been the deciding factor in spending the day outside.

Surprisingly, Ron spent more time with Harry than with Hermione, and by the end of the day, he and Harry were alone on the other side of the lake. Even though Hermione had grown tired as the sky had begun to darken, Ron decided to spend more time with Harry.

"You look like you need a friend, mate," was Ron's clever excuse, "Someone that isn't Hermione, always nagging. Or Snape, always…" Ron paused, not sure if Snape was too sensitive of a subject. "Well, always being Snape," Ron concluded, putting his arm around Harry's shoulders and rubbing his fist into the top of Harry's head.

"Cheer up, Harry," Ron said laughingly, causing Harry to laugh too. Ron and Harry walked back up to the fifth floor, talking about idiotic guy things the whole way along.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said with a smile, "You're a good friend."

"I know," Ron replied, laughing raucously and punching Harry on the shoulder. Harry punched him back before he waved good-bye, entering his rooms with a broad smile on his face. He had needed a day with his best mate, and he now felt perfectly ready for his upcoming date with Snape.

"Date?" Harry thought as he prepared for bed, "Can I really call it a date?" He thought about it, about the timing and the place, and decided that yes; he could call it a date.

Harry dreamt of how his date would turn out, and how happy he would be on that date, and he woke up with sticky pajama bottoms.

On Friday morning Harry hastily prepared himself for a conversation with Snape. He woke up early and took a quick shower; a cold one, so that he didn't get distracted and dawdle. Harry put on his nicest blue jeans, because he thought wearing pressed trousers would be a bit too much, and a plain green top. He thought Snape would appreciate his efforts, because the green was a Slytherin green, and that was the reason Harry wore it; not because it showed off his eyes, which was Hermione's reason for him to buy the shirt in the first place.

Harry put on his black school shoes and, after a moment of thought, pulled on a light gray jumper, too. He combed the tangles from his hair, but didn't even attempt to flatten it, and hurried down the stairs, not realizing how fast he was going until he bumped into someone.

Harry fell to the ground at the very last of the stairs, landing roughly on his bum, and looked up in shock to see Snape towering over him.

"Why the rush, Harry?" Snape intoned, offering his hand to Harry. Harry grabbed hold of Snape's hand, flushed because of his clumsiness, and was hauled to his feet.

"I was just about to fetch you, actually," said Snape insipidly as he put his arm about Harry's shoulders, "I've arranged to have breakfast in my rooms, and thought you might like to join me."

"Oh," Harry murmured, looking up at Snape through his messy hair, "Yes; I would like to." The corners of Snape's mouth turned up in an almost smile, and Harry smiled shyly in response.

"My chambers are in the dungeons," Snape began, only to be interrupted by Harry's nervous laughter and a mumbled, "Of course." Snape sighed and rolled his eyes blandly, lightly guiding Harry to follow him down to the dungeons.

Most of the talking on the trek downward was done by Snape, with Harry butting in occasionally to say an agreeable word or two. Harry was nervous, to say the least, and was constantly trying to wipe his sweaty palms against his pant leg without gathering Snape's attention. He succeeded, for the most part, because even when Snape did catch Harry smearing his palms across his pants not-quite surreptitiously, Snape didn't say a word about it.

"We're here," Snape said, removing his arm from around Harry's shoulders as they rounded a dungeon corridor. Snape approached a dark wooden door halfway along the small passage and whispered, "Clandestinely," in his deep and syrupy thick voice. He pulled on the door's large brass handle, opening up his rooms and beckoning Harry to join him inside.

Snape's chambers did not mask the fact that they were located in the dungeons, the walls being completely of stone with torches set into them for lighting. There were no windows, seeing as it was located underground, and Harry could sense that there were spells to keep the walls from leaking. The main room was in between a parlor room and a study, one half covered with bookshelves and papers, with a large desk pushed up against the wall, and the other half containing a squat fireplace, a high-backed wooden chair, and an upholstered _chaise longue_. There was a short table in between the _chaise longue_ and the chair, which Harry supposed was where they would be having their breakfast.

"Have a seat," Snape intoned, waving his hand languidly at the _chaise longue_ as he made his way to the high-backed chair. With the same flourish he had made when they last had tea, Snape sat in his chair with poise, his robe flowing about him elegantly as he shifted slightly to cross his legs in a courtly manner.

Harry sat on the edge of the _chaise longue_ with a muffled thump, his legs spread casually as he slouched against the back of the chair, laying his right arm on the sole arm rest.

"The food shall be here momentarily," said Snape, "I didn't expect to get you down here so soon, and had scheduled for the food to arrive at half past eight." Harry glanced toward the clock above the fireplace, which read five past eight. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though he might get an erection, and slouched forward, resting his elbows near his knees with his hands dangling down in front.

Harry cleared his throat before he cleverly said, "So… What's new?" Snape smirked and uncrossed his legs, only to cross them again in the opposite direction, and said, "Nothing of interest."

"Oh," Harry muttered, looking down at his hands and frowning slightly in thought. "Do you want to play a game, then?" Harry asked, reaching up to scratch at the back of his messy head of hair.

"Not particularly," Snape said bluntly, uncrossing his legs once more and getting up from his seat. Harry's breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to race. Snape walked rather rigidly over to the _chaise longue_, and Harry felt his face heat up. Without much of a flourish, Snape sat down next to Harry with a bare five inches between them.

"I thought you might feel more comfortable if I didn't tower over you from across the room," was Snape's claimed motive for sitting next to Harry, and Harry nodded his head quickly in acceptance.

"I…" Harry began, swallowing heavily against that troublesome lump in his throat, "I was working on spells a few days ago. Making new ones, I mean. Do you think we should still work on them? The ones we didn't finish before?"

"Well," Snape said, "There were several good ideas in there, and I'm sure that if we worked together we could accomplish them." Snape leaned over so that his face was right up close to Harry's, and Harry could hardly breathe as Snape began to speak again. "Would you like to continue working with me on creating new and improved spells?"

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound was emitted; just a pant of air against Snape's lips, which were scarcely two inches away. Snape raised an eyebrow, but waited patiently for Harry to respond. Harry inhaled sharply through his open mouth as he felt his penis growing hard within his blue jeans, and said nervously, "Yes; I would. I would really like to, s-sir."

Slowly, Snape wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders once more, looking down at him almost worriedly.

"Is something bothering you, Harry?" Snape asked, and Harry didn't respond, his mind too focused on his arousal and just how close he was to Snape, the very cause of his arousal.

"Harry?" Snape asked again, drawing Harry in closer to his chest in an allegedly comforting manner. Harry gasped and pushed away from Snape, wanting to be able to talk to him face to face.

"I'm sorry, Snape," Harry began, not being able to keep a hold over his hormones any longer, "I can't help it; really!"

"What?" Snape said, frowning in perplexity over Harry's words, "Would you simply tell me what is wrong?" Harry wrenched himself out of Snape's grasp and twisted away; almost panting from all the stimulation he had been given.

Harry sighed and turned around to look at Snape's frowning face again, anxiously waiting to see how the words he spoke next would be received.

"I like you, Snape," Harry said quietly, praying that things would turn out well, "I really fancy you."

Snape starred blankly at Harry for ten whole seconds— Harry had counted as the clock ticked away each one— before he smiled at Harry in as genuine a fashion as he could. It was amazing how much more handsome Snape looked when he smiled, and Harry felt as though he was going to faint.

Harry smiled back timidly, impatiently waiting for Snape's imperative response.

"I fancy you, too, Harry," Snape whispered charmingly, causing Harry to shiver. Snape leaned in close to Harry, placing his hand against the arm rest behind Harry for balance, and moved his lips until they were barely an inch away from Harry's. Harry had to force himself to keep breathing as his cock pressed against the rough fabric of his jeans.

There was a moment of silence were they simply sat, breathing air across each other's faces as the tension built. Then Harry found the courage to lean forward and press his lips against Snape's in an engaging kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Snape was slow to respond to each movement Harry made; he seemed to be holding back. Even as Harry clung desperately to the front of Snape's robes, pressing his lips earnestly against Snape's mouth, Snape seemed with drawn.

Soon Harry gently removed his lips from Snape's, sliding his head down as if he were going to rest his head on Snape's shoulder. He didn't. Instead, Harry shook his head in bewilderment.

"Why?" he asked simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snape sighed through his nose as he frowned in a look that stated he was caught in an internal battle. Finally, he said, "You're young, Harry."

"So?" Harry responded quickly.

Snape sighed again, this time with his mouth, before he grasped Harry shoulders and pushed him away.

"Look at me, Harry," Snape said, and then, more demandingly, "Look at me!"

Harry raised his head to look at Snape, trying to decide if glaring would worsen the situation, or help it. Then Snape closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Harry thought perhaps crying would be better. It would certainly make him feel better.

"All right, Harry," said Snape, causing Harry's heart to rise with hope.

"You must understand," Snape continued, clearing his throat and using his lecture voice in an effort to take control of the situation, "This will not be a one-night stand."

Before Snape could finish, Harry pounced upon him, knocking him backwards and almost to the floor.

"I wouldn't have it any other way!" Harry exclaimed, kissing Snape affectionately on the nose. Snape scowled and rubbed at his nose, making Harry laugh joyously. With a grunt, Snape grabbed Harry's shoulders once more, only this time he hauled him close and ravished his mouth. Harry moaned and cupped Snape's face, almost dying of happiness as Snape slid his tongue inside Harry's mouth.

"Dobby has brought breakfast, Professor Snape."

The two wizards toppled to the floor, still kissing each other, before they scrambled apart and back to their original seats; Harry in the _chaise longue_ and Snape in his high-backed chair across the room. Dobby walked over and placed a large tray laden with breakfast tea and toast, among other things.

"Thank you, Dobby," Snape said gruffly, shooing Dobby away.

Dobby nodded before he extended his hand to Snape, a small bit of parchment in his grasp. Snape took it, and as he unfolded the paper Dobby intoned, "Professor McGonagall is wanting to speak to you." With that, Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Before either Harry or Snape could say another word, McGonagall's head appeared in the fireplace.


	6. Chapter 6

Professor McGonagall floated in the fireplace, seeing first the tray of food and tea for two, then Snape sitting in his chair looking slightly disheveled and red in the face, and then Harry, who looked quite normal. Dishevelment and pink cheeks were things Harry was rarely without, but the fact that he was in Snape's quarters was reason for a double-take.

Harry fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, glancing surreptitiously at the food as he waited for McGonagall to talk and, most likely, berate him. As McGonagall and Snape starred at each other silently for several long moments, Harry snuck a piece of toast of the tray. However, the crunching of him eating the toast broke the silence and cued McGonagall to begin her questioning.

"Harry! What a surprise. What are you doing down in the dungeons so early in the morning?" she asked, her tone going from cheerful to a lecture tone rather quickly. McGonagall raised an eyebrow, making Harry laugh nervously, before she bluntly asked, "Well?" Harry blushed, anxiously taking a bite of toast.

"Snape invited me over for breakfast," Harry said frankly, trying not to look as embarrassed as he felt.

"Professor Snape, Harry," McGonagall responded automatically, not bothering to give Harry a scolding glance.

"It's all right, Minerva," Snape said, startling both McGonagall and Harry, "I gave him my permission." McGonagall accepted this without much further surprise, noting that Snape's face looked as if he greatly regretted giving Harry permission to call him anything at all besides sir.

"Well, Severus; I suppose I'll hurry this along, seeing as you have company," McGonagall said in a slightly annoyed voice, though it sounded slightly amused, as well.

"I was speaking with Rufus Scrimgeour, who is the Minister for Magic, as I hope you already know. Well, he rather likes the _Protector_ spell you two created, and would like his Aurors to be able to perform it as they round up the remaining Death Eaters and what not, as well as in any future battles or fights."

McGonagall sighed a heavy sigh, rather unknowingly giving Snape the opportunity to attempt to intervene, undoubtedly wanting to ask what this had to do with him, but before he could even begin, McGonagall said, "The _point_, Severus, is that he thinks the spell is to complicated and grueling to execute, and he would like you and Harry to perfect this spell, so that it could be performed in a slightly more timely manner."

Snape scowled darkly at McGonagall.

"Fine," He said gruffly, "I will do it."

"Oh, so will I," Harry added quickly, confused by Snape's anger. He hoped Snape hadn't changed his mind about their plans.

"I bet he has," thought Harry miserably, "He's angry because he just wants to kick me out of here." Harry's heart thudded painfully in his chest, and he felt torn between wanting McGonagall to leave right that instant, and hoping she would stay longer so Harry wouldn't have to be disappointed.

"Well, "I'll be on my way, then," McGonagall said simply, looking rather pleased with herself, "Have a nice breakfast, you two."

Harry sighed and slumped down in his seat, very aware of Snape sitting very rigidly and staring straight at Harry. Harry shoved the last bit of toast into his mouth and tried not to look too dejected as he glanced up at Snape.

Suddenly, Snape stood up. He crossed the expanse between then in three long strides, and Harry couldn't help but look fearful as Snape glowered down at him.

"Sir?" Harry managed to squeak out, his hands starting to tremble. Snape stood stock still, glaring harshly down at Harry for several long moments that seemed like an eternity to Harry.

Then Snape growled and in a flash, he was on top of Harry, kissing him roughly and pinning him against the back of the seat. Harry gasped as Snape's lips moved against his own, and he couldn't help but moan as Snape's tongue invaded his mouth. He tried to reach up and grab Snape— to haul him closer— but Snape smacked his hands away.

Snape grabbed the back of Harry's head and shoved their lips even closer, and Harry whimpered pathetically as Snape mauled Harry's mouth. Slowly, Harry reached around Snape's back, and when Snape didn't smack his hand back, Harry groped Snape's ass. Snape moaned into Harry's mouth; a low, breathy moan, and Harry pulled back, gasping.

"B-bedroom?" He asked, hand still firmly grabbing Snape's bum. Snape nodded once, and Harry was on his feet in a heartbeat. He stood up slowly, and Harry had to restrain himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet. Snape pointed to the hallway.

"It's on the left," he said, and Harry was off, pushing open the door and gazing into Snape's bedroom.

The room looked more like a library then a bedroom, seeing as two whole walls were lined ceiling to floor with bookshelves. There were so many books in the room that they couldn't even all fit on the bookshelves, and there were piles of books shoved against a third wall.

"You like books," Harry said, smiling broadly as Snape appeared at his side.

"I might," Snape whispered into Harry's ear, shoving him towards the bed. It was a double bed, and the head of it was pushed against the only wall not covered in books, a dresser on one side, and a wardrobe on the other.

Harry laughed and fell against the bed, liking the feel of the soft knit sheets and loving the idea of Snape sleeping in them. Snape growled again, this time slightly playfully, and leapt onto the bed, pinning Harry down once more. They kissed romantically for a moment, until the heated rush of lust over took them once more.

Harry pulled at Snape's robes, and Snape hauled off Harry's jumper, and soon enough they were both naked and panting stop the sheets. Snape pulled open the second dresser drawer, not taking his eyes off of Harry, and fumbled around for the small jar of lubricant he kept in there.

"Do this often?" Harry whispered, and Snape's face flushed red.

"Only by myself," Snape answered brusquely, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. He kissed Snape soundly, framing Snape's face with his hands, and Snape found the lubricant and placed it stop the dresser without breaking the kiss.

Snape moved his hands to Harry's chest, running them down over Harry's nipples, and Harry moaned deliciously at the touch. Snape pinched Harry's nipples, Harry gasped, and Snape took over the kiss as he flicked at Harry's nipples and Harry began to writhe underneath him, their hard cocks rubbing against each other.

Once Harry became accustomed to the intense pleasure, he decided to reciprocate. Again, he reached around Snape's back and grabbed at his ass, and Snape shoved forward roughly and bit down on Harry's lip. Harry gasped, at the spark of pain, but Snape eased it away as he rocked his hips ferociously against Harry's and suckled on Harry's bitten lip.

Snape reached one hand out for the lubricant, and Harry curled his toes in anticipation. With his fingers coated in lubricant, Snape reached in between them and placed his fingers against Harry's hole. Harry spread his legs wide, bending his knees to give Snape better access, and moaned loudly as Snape's fingers entered him. Snape stretched Harry's ass, inserting a third finger and flexing them inside Harry. Harry moaned, his hold on Snape's ass getting hard enough to leave a bruise, and broke their kiss.

"Hurry," Harry panted, "Now."

Readily complying, Snape removed his fingers from Harry's ass and slicked them up again, using them to coat his cock with lubricant. It was then that Harry got his first really good look at Snape's cock.

It was beautiful; much longer than Harry's and with an angry quality to it that Harry found incredibly endearing. The head was red and swollen, with the large vein on the underside of Snape's cock visibly pulsing with blood. Harry touched the head of Snape's cock, and Snape hissed in pleasure. With one quick shove, Snape's cock was inside Harry; and Harry through back his head in ecstasy.

Snape pounded his cock into Harry's hole, and Harry gasped and writhed, throwing his head back and forth as waves of pleasure washed over him. Snape pushed against Harry's knees, and Harry locked them around Snape's shoulders, moving his griping hand from Snape's ass to his own cock. After several grunting thrusts, Snape slapped Harry's hand off Harry's own cock, only to replace it with his hand. Harry gasped and moaned as those dexterous fingers encased his cock, and soon he was coming all over Snape's hand. With a few more thrusts, Snape too was coming, gasping out Harry's name as he spilt his seed inside of Harry.

Snape collapsed on top of Harry, panting heavily, but Harry was so far gone from his climax that he barely even noticed. A few minutes went by until Snape finally rolled off of Harry, and Harry rolled onto his side to look at Snape. Harry smiled, reaching out a hand to toy with Snape's sweat sticky hair, and bent down to kiss him.

"Did you enjoy it?" Snape mumbled huskily against Harry's lips. Harry laughed and kissed Snape again, a short, chaste kiss.

"Do you really have to ask?" Harry replied, linking his arms around Snape's neck and cuddling in close to his side.

"Our breakfast must be getting cold," said Snape, his tone of voice giving way to the fact that he could not care less. With a complacent sigh, Harry snuggled against Snape's neck and kissed it softly. Snape ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair for a moment as Harry kissed him, gently removing the newly-made tangles.

Then, Snape pushed Harry away gently, and said, "That's enough cuddling for me, thanks." With a laugh, Harry sat up in bed and groped around for his underpants. He found Snape's. Laughingly, he stood up and slid the worn black boxers on, jumping out of Snape's reach as he tried to snatch them back.

"And what do you propose I wear?" Snape said haughtily, standing nude in front of Harry with his arms crossed in front of his chest, as though he were reprimanding a student.

"You could get another pair," Harry suggested slyly, "Or you could wear nothing at all." He ran around the bed and picked up his blue jeans, bouncing on one foot to keep his balance as he put them on.

"Here!" said Harry as he tossed Snape his robe, the heavy black garment landing over Snape's head. Harry laughed uproariously as a flustered Snape went about putting his robe on. They finished getting dressed, Harry still giggling happily as Snape scowled, embarrassed, down at Harry.

"Tea?" Snape said as he sat in his chair and began pouring himself a cup of lukewarm tea.

"Why not?" Harry replied, sitting in the _chaise longue_ and smiling at Snape. "Does this mean we're some sort of couple now?" Harry asked jokingly as he gazed at Snape happily.

"Possibly," Snape uttered, his face turning slightly red as he handed Harry a cup of tea. Harry laughed as he took the tea, peering over the top of the cup endearingly. Snape smiled, and though it wasn't a pretty smile, it made Harry's heart flutter all the same.

5


End file.
